Faraway (Part 1 of Another World)
by justanothergeekygirl
Summary: Pierce wakes up in different place. She wasn't kidnapped, neither is she reported lost by anybody. She finds herself in a totally different country and continent put under the care of Dean and Sam Winchester. She has been sent here for a reason and the boys must protect her at all cost. Will she trust two strange men with her life?
1. Chapter 1

I wake up in a different place. It is nothing like my bedroom. A bright light ahead blinds me and the coarse sheets under me are not the ones on my bed. I stir and turn away from the light trying rubbing my eyes until I can see again. The stale scent of unwashed clothes hit me as I look around to see where I am.

Sunlight is shining through windows that do not belong to my room. Beside my bed is another one just like it but empty. I hear some movements in from my left and I look towards that direction. I sit up straight away when I see that there are two strange men in the room with me. One is sifting through files and papers while the other is reading something from his laptop. They hear me get up and look at me.

"Dude, she's awake," the guy from the laptop says. He has long-ish hair and looks to be in his early thirties.

"What? Oh," the other responds as they both get up and walk towards me. The other guy wears a short haircut and looks a few years older than the first.

Startled and scared, I slide off the other side of the bed and retreat backwards as fast as I can. They advance until they see my scared expression. They both hold their hands up in a gesture of assurance that they aren't armed.

"Who are you?" I ask them, still backing away because they get taller and taller as they advance.

The laptop guy stopped and raised his hands in a calming gesture. "It's okay, we're not gonna hurt you." Standing up, he is a lot taller than his companion, who is scary tall enough.

"Where am I?" I ask, trying to keep my voice in check. "Who are you people?"

The laptop guy spoke again, "I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean." When I say nothing, he takes a hesitant step forwards.

"Don't come near me," I plead and Sam stops.

"We're not gonna hurt you," Sam soothes. He takes a look at my resolute face and says, "Okay, we'll stay here if you're comfortable. Tell us your name and where you're from, maybe we can help you."

I glance between the two of them and assess them in my head. I guess they are Americans, judging their accents. Dean is easily six feet tall and I don't want to even think about Sam. They sit on the bed I just vacated. Sam leans forward like I'm an injured wild animal he's trying to help. Dean, on the other hand, just regards me with knit eyebrows.

"Where am I?" I ask again.

"You're in a motel, on the outskirts of Texas," Dean finally says.

"Texas? As in America, Texas?" I cannot believe it. I am not from Texas, I am not even from the US.

"Well," Dean shrugs, "As far as I know, yeah."

"What do you remember?" Sam asks.

I search my confused brain, and answer, "I was sleeping, in my bed… at home." I look at them and they both have an eyebrow shot up.

"How did you get all the way out here?" Dean asks.

I shake my head, feeling tears threaten to fall. "I don't know," I croak. "I was just sleeping at home. This is all a dream, right? I'm just dreaming."

"Where are you from?" Sam asks.

I look him in the eye say, "South East Asia."

Dean pulls a face. "You're very far away from home."

"It must be a dream," I mutter to myself.

"I don't think this is a dream, honey. It's pretty real to me," Dean says. "We found you lying at the side of the road last night, and Sam decided to take you along with us. We were going to send you to the hospital if it wasn't so late and we're so far out of town."

I shake my head. This cannot be, I must be dreaming. Everything seems so real, though. There is nothing dream like here, no romanticized things, no soft pillows, nothing. The smell of the dirty carpets is real enough for me. The only thing unreal about all this is the two strangers that come from a race I'm not even accustomed to seeing.

Dean looks at his watch and says, "We have to leave this place and I guess you're stuck with us until we find out how you travelled halfway around the world without you knowing and how to get you back."

"So you believe me?" I ask hopefully. "You don't think I'm crazy? Can you help get me back?"

"We believe you," Sam says.

"But whether or not we can get you back is a different matter," Dean cuts in. "We'll try our best." He takes a look at the oversized t-shirt and denim shorts I am always guilty of sleeping in before saying, "But first, let's get you some clothes."

I sit in the back of their rather vintage looking car. It's a black Chevrolet, rather squarely built but sleek all the same. It's a very beautiful car.

"Impala 1967," Dean had said proudly. "She's my baby."

Dean studies me through his back view mirror. "How old are you, anyway? You don't look older than 18."

"I'm fifteen," I say. "I turn sixteen next March."

We park in front of a small boutique and we walk in. The place is empty aside from the shopkeeper. I'm grateful that they have central heating because the short walk from the car to the shop gave me goose bumps all over my exposed legs and bare feet.

"Alright," Dean claps his hands, "You're gonna need some t-shirts, some jackets, a pair of boots, and jeans."

I select some plain t-shirts, two plaid shirts, a black hoodie, some socks and a pair of very comfortable yet solid boots. The boots have heels on them but I hardly feel anything and I feel less tiny next to them with the extra couple inches. I pick a pair of skinny black jeans along with two more boot cut blue jeans. Sam passes me two more jackets, one with black leather outside and fur lining inside and another denim jacket.

"It's rather cold this time of year, you'll need to wear at least three layers to keep warm," he explains.

They are decent enough to go away when I chose a few sets of underwear. They pay for my things and Dean gets me a duffel bag to keep all my clothes in. I hide in the back seat to change as Dean drives us to a small diner at the edge of town. We have breakfast then we are on the highway leading to Louisiana.

"So what is it that you guys do?" I ask as I watch the plains roll past.

"Well, we're hunters," Sam says hesitantly. "We hunt… things."

"What sort of things?"

"Supernatural things, like demons, vampires, and all that stuff."

"Do you actually see the supernatural things or is it all just chants and spells?" I ask. I have seen enough shows back home to know some people don't actually see what they're hunting.

"Oh we see them, alright," Dean chuckles. "We are quite up close and personal with these things."

"Okay," I say, I don't want to judge anybody. "So what are you hunting now?"

"There are some mysterious deaths happening in Louisiana and there might be more than meets the eye about the deaths," Sam explains. "So we are going there to check out the scenes and see if we can put a stop to it."

I nod silently and continue staring out the window.


	2. Chapter 2

We pull up to civilization once more after dark, we reach a dingy motel and Dean checks us in. The bearded guy behind the counter looks at me funny when Dean asks for just one room. Dean had asked me in the car if I'm okay with sharing a room with them or if I wanted my own room. I don't like the idea of being alone in a strange place at night so I said I didn't mind sharing a room. By the looks of things, they don't seem to earn much from hunting so I don't want to add burden to them either.

I carry my duffel into the room that smells like the one I woke up in. I guess I just have to get used to it, there are no 5 star hotels here. The room has one small coffee table and two chairs next to the door and only two beds. I put my bag down and explore the small room. It has a decent bathroom, not too covered in slime but a stale smell all the same.

Sam closes the door behind him and Dean sits at the table with the laptop. I offer to sleep on the floor but Sam insists I take a bed. After a full day stuck in the car with them, I gather that Sam is the more considerate and hospitable of the two. Dean carries an air of confidence and leadership from which I can deduce that he is older than Sam. Sam is more serious than Dean, softer and kinder but with a touch of seriousness in almost everything he says.

We shed our jackets and leave only two layers of clothing on and I settle on the bed cross-legged to watch them as they work. I watch as they discuss what to do the next morning when they go to the crime scene and read reports on the deaths.

"So this guy has his throat slashed in his own home? Is there any sign on breaking in? Struggles?"

"No signs of forced entry. The victim is alone at home so there is no eye witness to the murder."

"So we're going to the site tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but what are we gonna do with her? We can't bring her there."

"Bring me where?" I ask.

"To the murder site," Dean answers. "Unless you can help and don't mind some blood and gore."

"So long as the body is not there, I'm fine," I say.

"Don't you worry about that, the police would've taken it in for post mortem already. So we can bring her, then," Dean decides, looking at Sam.

Sam looks at me, "I don't know. It could be dangerous."

"Nah, it's daytime! Nothing much happens in daytime," Dean declares.

"Fine," Sam says. "But we need to solve her case as well."

Dean looks at me from top to toe, a scowl on my forehead as a sign of thinking. "Yeah, but we don't know where to start, do we?" I am caught by surprise when he said that so gently, so different from his usual loud sarcasm.

Dean glances at his watch and looks at me again, saying in his gentler voice, "You should get some sleep; we have an early day tomorrow."

The drive had worn me out and he doesn't have to tell me twice. I went blank as soon as I hit the pillows.

I wake up in the dark in a more comfortable environment than the one I fell asleep in. I look around, and see that I'm back in my room. I scowled, that is the weirdest dream I have ever had. I reach for my phone and look at the time. It's only just past midnight, not five minutes from when I fell asleep. I sigh and close my eyes again, trying to forget that dream that feels only too real.

The alarm clock rings after a few hours and I get up. Mum is yelling up the stairs for me to hurry up for school. I groan, not being able to forget that meaningless yet vivid dream. It's almost as if I was awake at the time.

The entire day passes by, routine things that happen on a usual Wednesday. I go to school, get bored and bullied then go home. At home, I complete my list of daily chores. After dinnertime, I'm exhausted as usual. I do some homework and get dressed for bed. I check my clock. It's midnight. I lie down and fall asleep.

"Pierce? Pierce, wake up."

I groan and turn in my bed. I feel the bright morning sun hit my face. I jolt up, I'm late for school. I throw off the sheets and jump out of bed.

"Whoa hey, there's no need to rush," someone says. It's Sam from my dream last night. So does this make it a dream? It seems so real, though.

"I thought this was all a dream," I mutter.

"What?" Dean asks as he walks out of the bathroom.

"I was back at home, I woke up," I say. "This is so weird."

"So you went back? In your sleep?" Sam inquires.

"Yeah. Or I woke up. I don't know what's what anymore," I say, shaking my head.

"We'll figure it out later," Dean says. "Right now, we need to get some breakfast and get to the murder scene."

Whilst having breakfast, Dean walks off and doesn't come back for a while.

"Where have you been?" Sam asks.

"Went to get her some basic needs, like towels, toothbrush," he says, waving the white plastic bag he had with him. "And fake IDs."

"Fake IDs?" I take the laminated cards from him. There are a few IDs, one says Pierce Winchester; another has the name, Lori Smith; and another is Haley Chang. "Why so many?"

Dean points at the one with my name on it. "This is for your 'true identity' cause you need one, we'll just say you're our sister. It'll keep the cops off for a while if you need to."

"In case you haven't noticed," I say, "I don't exactly look like I'm related. Your name's Winchester, huh? Like the gun."

"Yeah." Dean shrugs, "I guess we'll say you're adopted or something." He points to the other two and says, "These two are for when we investigate stuff, to keep from getting into trouble, y'know?" Then he winks.

"Okay," I say, dragging the 'a' sound. I pocket the IDs just when he fishes out a cellphone from his pocket.

He hands it to me, saying, "This is one of my spare phones, I'm giving it to you just in case anything happens and you need to give us a call. Sam's and my other phones are all inside so you don't have to worry about a thing."

"Thanks," I say. "You didn't have to do all this."

"Of course we do," Dean says. "We might even have to teach you how to use a gun if things go bad."

"A gun?" I ask incredulously. Both Dean and Sam shrug. "Oh, God."

We reach a large house in a large compound. There are yellow tapes going around the beams of the house, blocking any form of entry. Aside from the tape, there are no signs of policemen anywhere.

"Aren't there supposed to be police everywhere?" I ask.

"Yeah, well, they don't come too early," Dean replies. "That means we have some time before they come and we risk getting caught."

They stride up to the house and walk under the yellow tape as if the 'CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS' along them mean nothing. Dean picks the lock and we enter the house. I go in with abated breath, unsure of what to expect.

The house seems empty and everything is in order, as if nobody had just died here not too long ago. I follow closely behind them, glancing backwards every now and again. Dean is currently going everywhere waving this old CD player thing around, the lights on top of the device is light up in an orderly fashion like a heart beating. Faint beeping noises came from the device and it peaks my curiosity but I decide to hold off questions until we are safely outside.

I strained my ears to hear for any noise outside above the thumping noises of their heavy footsteps. Soon enough, my nerves gave way and I couldn't take the noise anymore. I stop walking and fall back.

"Guys, stop for a bit," I tell them, going only above a whisper.

"Is there something wrong?" Sam asks, worried.

I shake my head, "No, but your footsteps are too loud I can't tell if there are other noises."

"Noises? What noises?" Dean asks.

Then, we hear sirens and engines pull up to the house. The sound of car doors closing follows then men's voices start getting closer to the front door.

"We need to get out," Dean decides. "Check if they have a back door."

We sneak out towards the kitchen at the back as fast as we could with light steps. The chink of keys ran through the silent house.

"I hope you parked your car somewhere safe," I whisper to Dean.

"It's around the corner, they won't suspect a thing," he hisses.

I look down the hallway and see two figures behind the frosted glass. "Hurry!"

We reach the kitchen which only has a window above the sink. Dean runs and lifts the window pane and motions for me to get through it. I perch on the sink before crawling out head first. I realized my mistake too late and hit my head on the hard concrete ground three feet away. I used my hands to carry the rest of my body out none too gracefully. They poke their heads out to see if I'm okay and I wave to them from my place on the ground before clutching my hurting head. I watch Sam jump out feet first, wondering how he managed to get through the gap not more than a foot high. He finds his bearings and helps me off the ground, checking to see if my head injury is serious.

Dean comes out and closes the window quickly. He says, "I think the police saw me when I closed the window. Let's go."

We run away from the window but I hear the window slide again and stop, knowing we can't escape the police. I hiss at the two in front of me to stop running and walk like normal people. They listened to me and we walk away as if we were just having a morning stroll.

"Hey, kids!" A gruff voice calls and we turn around feigning innocence. We look at the police poking his head out of the window.

"Yes, officer?" Dean asks, smiling politely at him.

The officer looks at him hard before asking, "What are you doing here? It's private property."

"Oh sorry, officer," Dean says. "We didn't know."

The officer scowls at Dean before looking at the rest of us and I muster as much innocence as I can. Deciding that we were just a couple of playful youths that take no regards of others privacy, he lets us off with a "Don't let me catch you here again."

"Yes, sir," Dean nods. "Have a great morning, officer."

The officer huffs and closes the window. We get into the car and I burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Dean asks.

I catch my breath and manage to say, "It's funny."

"Funny? What was funny?"

"Lying to authority," I answered.

Dean grins, "Well, you seem very comfortable with it."

I shrug and say, "I do a lot of lying and sneaking around back home."

"Why? Doing shady things, are you?" Dean looks at me as he starts his car.

"No, nothing bad," I say. "Just some sneaking out at night occasionally for a party or two."

Dean grins at Sam and says, "I like this girl. She can stay."

Sam shakes his head incredulously at the both of us. "Back at the house, you told us to lighten our footsteps, why?" Sam cocks his head at me.

"Well, if you walk around stomping like an elephant, you're bound to be heard," I shrug. "It's pretty logical."

"How do you know these things?"

"Like I said, I tend to sneak around without my parents' consent," I smirk. "Some things you learn with experience."

Dean scoffs.


	3. Chapter 3

We are back in our motel room with pizza for lunch, Dean and Sam decides to check out the house again tonight. In the meantime, they try to figure out my mystery.

I tell them how only a few minutes will pass after a full day with them. I recount that I don't carry anything back with me. The only time I did bring things over was just the clothes on my back and my lucky bracelet and my pentagram necklace from the night before. They tell me that I was there the entire night, I didn't disappear or anything. I wonder if my body at home would get injured when I get hurt here or vice versa. I guess I will find that out when I get home later, with the rather big bruise blooming on one temple.

"So this means your body stays and your mind comes here," Sam concludes. "Somehow you manage to appear solid here without transporting your physical self."

Dean pokes my shoulder and says, "She's solid, alright."

Sam looks at him with a stern expression, "I would know that, I was the one who carried her from the road to the car and into the room, remember?"

Dean pulls a face before going back to a more serious expression. "So time travel, maybe? What year is it?"

I answer almost immediately, "2013."

"Not time travel, then," Sam says. "Maybe like a different dimension or something?"

"Dimension? Don't be stupid, Sam," Dean says. "The only different worlds available are heaven, hell, purgatory and earth."

"It doesn't feel like a different dimension," I say. "Apart from the fact that I'm now aware of demon hunters, everything seems like the earth I know."

"Maybe there's a reason for you to come here, a purpose or something to fulfill," Sam suggests.

"I'm not aware of anything I'm supposed to do," I say. "I didn't get any instructions before being zapped here."

"Most times, weird things happen for a reason," Sam reasons. "So if we can find out what it is you're supposed to do, you can go home or something."

"Yeah," I nod. "Only thing is that I already did go home. It's like I just woke from a dream or something and went back to reality. And it also feels like that when I wake up here. It's like I have two lives or something and sleep lets me move between them."

"That's seriously weird," Dean says.

Night falls and we are back at the house again. We creep in as quiet as possible and my senses heightens. Dean whispers to Sam to split and that he checks upstairs while Sam goes through the ground floor again. Dean grabs my wrist and tells me to stay close. In the dark, with the knowledge of a creepy death that happened in this house, the place seems a lot scarier than it did during the day.

My nerves are shot and on high alert. I follow closely behind Dean, hoping nothing will pop out behind me. Dean starts waving his beeping device into each room, but I'm not sure of what he's listening for. We reach the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Once we reach it, Dean's device starts beeping crazily.

"Is it supposed to do that?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "It means some spirit has been here. I'm guessing this is where they found the body."

I look around and true enough, the queen sized bed is soaked in blood. Dean walks in cautiously and I follow suit. I shine the torchlight they had given me and I follow the dark stains of blood as they lead off the bed and towards the door.

"The victim tried to escape," I say. "He didn't make it to the door," I observe. There is a splash of blood traveling up the wall halfway between the bed and the door and that ends the path.

"It means he managed to dodge the attack," Dean says. "Usually, they die on the spot."

I look at Dean who is looking at the furniture and waving his device around them. "There's sulphur everywhere so it's a spirit of some sort," he explains. "So now we have to figure out who this killer is and why he is killing people."

I freeze when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The footsteps come closer and closer and I back away from the door. The footsteps stop and Sam's voice calls out for Dean.

"We're in here," Dean responds and Sam comes in. "You nearly gave us a heart attack there."

"Sorry," he says, "so what've you got?"

"Sulphur," Dean answers. "Stinks of it."

"Okay," Sam says. "I've some photos downstairs and it looks like the victim lives alone, no family pictures, nothing."

Our discussion is cut short by sirens wailing past. Dean looks out the window until the sirens stop and people start running down the street.

"We should get out," Sam says. "Is the front door clear?"

"I guess," Dean says. "We just have to be real subtle about it. Everyone is going down to the other end of the street."

So we creep out and blend in with the crowd of people gathering at another house. We squeeze in between to get closer. Some police are questioning some witnesses by the side while others are going in and out of the house.

"Come on, I want to take a good look at the body before they take it away," Dean says.

We walk up to an officer who seems to be the one in charge. He stops us and tells us that we can't go in.

Dean fishes out an FBI badge and flashes it at the police. "We're in the FBI, we just heard some commotion and came to check it out," he explains.

The policeman takes the bait but looks at me skeptically, "You look a little young to be in the FBI, missy."

"She's with us," Dean says before walking towards the house.

The policeman lets me pass and I trail them out of the chaos and into the house. We ask somebody where the body is and went to the bedroom. The signs of struggle in this room are strangely similar to the one in the first house. There is a pool of blood on the bed but the body is sprawled on the ground, on hand reaching towards the door. I nearly throw up at the sight of the dead body but I keep it down and force myself to look at the victim.

"The victim is a male, 28 years old," Dean tells Sam and me after talking to the police. "His name's Michael Anderson, lives alone."

Sam crouches next to the body and looks at it. He lifted the head and glassy eyes stared at me. I fight to swallow the tears choking me. I can see the double holes where the victim has been stabbed. The holes are facing different directions. The one in his kidney came from the front and out the back while the one in his chest is the other way round.

I point to the wounds and say, "He was stabbed."

"Yeah," Dean grunts, "Left kidney and the heart."

"The killer must have stabbed him in the kidney first, then the heart when he is trying to crawl out."

"It's weird," Dean agrees, "Whoever or whatever it is could've just stabbed him straight to the heart, but it wanted to see him suffer first."

We are once again in our motel room. Dean is chewing on a burger he bought for supper at the table, bent over the laptop. Sam is sitting on the other bed that is covered in papers and leather bound books.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat?" Dean asks me. "You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," I assure him. I try my best to look him in the eye. The truth is, I'm starving but the sight of the dead body makes me want to regurgitate anything that goes in my mouth. "I'm just tired," I mutter. I play with my necklace, avoiding eye contact.

"It's the body, huh?" He asks. I stay silent and he continues, "It's like that, the first time is always the worst. You get used to it soon."

"You say it like we're gonna see more dead bodies," I state gravely. I look up from my pendant and he shrugs.

"Wait till you get your first kill," he remarks before taking another bite from his burger. "You'd have nightmares for a week."

"Dean!" Sam nearly shouts. "If you could stop scaring her, that would be great."

Dean sighs, puts down his burger, takes the packet of chips on the table and walks over to sit beside me on my bed. He holds up the arm nearest to me. "C'mere," he says, gesturing for me to come closer. I lean towards him and he brings his arm around my shoulders. "I know it's traumatic the first time, it'll get better."

Silent tears stream down my cheeks as I mourn the death of someone I have never even met. "That's a terrible way to die," I mutter. "The poor guy is innocent."

"Actually," Dean says, "most of the time, the victims aren't as innocent as you think. They could've had dark secrets that they bring to the grave; sometimes they caused their own deaths, summoning scary things they can't control. They brought it on to themselves, mostly. It is a terrible way to die, can't deny that, but I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to not let you die that way. Okay?"

I look up into his eyes, realizing now how green they were, like granny smith apples. I nod and he smiles which crinkles the corners of his eyes.

"Now eat," he says, pushing the packet of chips to me. "You'll feel better."

"Thanks," I whisper and he gives my shoulder a small squeeze before getting up and returning to his work. I eat the chips and felt a lot better almost immediately. After eating enough to tide me till morning, I look around at the two of them buried in their research. "Do you want any help?" I offer to Sam, who is sitting near to me.

He looks up and his eyes turn into sad puppy dog ones. He shakes his head, "No, it's fine. You've been through a lot today. Go to sleep."

I nod and get under the covers. I pull my hoodie tighter around me to keep out the cold and I drift off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

I wake up in my own bed, the one I have slept in for all my life. I groan as I blink out the sunshine on my face. I sigh when I remember that I am back in the real world and I have school. I get up and get dressed. I notice in the mirror that the awful bruise is gone from my head. So maybe it is a really vivid dream and none of that had I just witnessed.

I drag myself to school and dread the awful morning ahead. Feeling a bit anxious, I take out my necklace from its usual hiding place under my uniform and toy with it. I remember what Sam and Dean had said about it when they saw it. They said the pentagram keeps the literal demons away, and the stylised patterns would be a spell or ward of some kind. It made me feel much safer with my necklace on. If it can keep away actual demons, maybe it can keep away the ones I face every day.

I huff again, wishing and praying that the last two nights were real and not just me. But it goes against any logical explanation. I reach my school gates and brace myself before I walk in through the school gates.

I get to my class and avoid any interactions with other people although I do get a few weird stares but nothing out of the ordinary. It all started when my pendant slipped out of my shirt collar during PE about two years ago. This girl, Jessie who wasn't (and still isn't) particularly nice to me, saw the pendant and spread the rumour saying that I worship the Devil. Since then, few people wants to talk to me and when there are new students that come along to be friendly, Jessie just dishes the dirt and they too stop talking to me.

I have no idea what she has against me, but she is known for holding grudges longer than the Federal Archives, no matter how trivial. I don't what did I ever do to her in the first month of my first year in secondary school. I do try and ask her but she only ever replies with cutting insults, on the best days she gives up and walks off.

I sit down at my place in the back of the class and pull out books for my first class. Everybody else is chatting to their friends or catching up with some sleep and I leaf through my homework that I have to hand in today. In an unfortunate moment, I look up and catch Jessie's eye. She sees me and cuts short her flirting with the boys and saunt over to my table.

Leaning purposefully over my homework, Jessie sneers, "Good morning, Pierce. Is this the work we're supposed to hand in today? Thanks for helping me do it." She laughs and waves my hard work around. She straightens it and reads through my essay with a smirk on her face the entire time. She looks up at me and stares at my chest. She isn't being a pervert, though. "Are you still going around worshipping the Devil? You're a freak, Pierce."

I reach one hand up to cover the pendant I forgot to hide back under my uniform when I took it out on the way to school. This explains the extra dirty looks from some people I walked past earlier. I wordlessly tuck it into my collar but don't break eye contact with Jessie who is gloating so much she is starting to resemble a frog. I can hear Dean's voice pointing it out and I chuckle at the thought. My change of character catches her off guard. Normally I don't talk back and let her taunt but with Sam and Dean swimming around in my head, I feel so much stronger and confident.

"What's so funny, Pierce?" She asks.

I shake my head with a crooked smile on my lips, "Nothing. It's just that you're a pathetic person."

Her eyes narrow to slits, "You think you have the upper hand here, do you? You just proved to the entire class what I've been saying for two years. You're a Satanist, and a freak."

"Satanist?" I laugh. "What makes you think that?"

"Are you stupid or something?" She scoffs. "You have that thing hanging of your neck."

"What thing? Oh, this thing?" I pull the pentagram out and dangle it for her to see. "It keeps demons out. It's on Google if you don't believe me. You should really do some research before shooting your mouth off like that. It might make you sound stupider than you already are."

"You're a freak," she hisses. "Your whole family are freaks. Who even names their daughter Pierce?"

I shrug and reply, "I like the name, really. It gives me a bit of character. Judging by your ear, though, I think Pierce would fit you just nicely." This line earns some laughter from the crowd gathering around us.

She scowls and hisses, "I will get you one day. You don't belong here, or anywhere for that matter. You're a freak."

"Jeez, you really need to learn a few more words there, Jess," I answer back. "Freak is started to wear out."

The class laughs but is cut short by the teacher entering the class. Jessie gives me one last look and I swear that her eyes turned entirely black. I shrug it off. She already has small eyes and she was squinting at me so I reckon it's just a shadow.

After a long day at school, I drag myself back home and unceremoniously throw myself on my bed. I close my eyes for five minutes and get back up again to wash up and do my chores. After chores, its homework and then I fall back onto my bed again and welcome the waves of sleep washing over me. Today was torture and I half hope that I will wake up with Sam and Dean around to take my mind off the crazy day.

I swim in black nothingness for a while before getting woken up by sounds of shuffling feet and low conversation. I feel the coarse fabrics around me and how they scratch at my skin. My upper body is wrapped in something woollen and warm. I'm sweating quite badly, really. I decide to come to and groan.

"Good morning, sunshine," I hear Dean greet.

I sit up and look at them. I smile despite my grogginess and say, "Boy, am I glad to see your faces."

Dean looks at me strangely and Sam huffs, "Tough day back home?"

"Yeah," I yawn. "School is as good as hell."

"School ain't that bad," Dean scoffs. "I've been to Hell, I know."

"Well, I believe you," I reply and walk into the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. Through the door, I ask them, "So what are we doing today?"

"Sam and I are going back to the house to check it out," Dean replies.

"What about me?"

"Homework, you're going to read up on some lore and maybe find out if there were similar killings in the past."

Great, so I have to do homework in my dream/alternate life thing as well. Some things don't change. "Homework is not my most favourite activity, you know," I try to weasel my way out.

Unperturbed, Dean says, "Yeah, well it's the safest activity. Come on, we got to get you to the library."

I am not too pleased about escaping to another world just to do more mundane work but Sam and Dean tells me that they don't want me to be put in harm's way, or the law's either. I grudgingly accept the dull day that is put before me and let them take me to the local library. I am to ask the librarian for archives of local newspaper and get hold of a computer to do some research. At least I get to use a computer maybe I can check my blog and see how it's holding up with me having not updated it for a few days.

They stop in front of a grand stone building and I sigh. As I open the car door to get out, Sam shuffles and calls out. I lean back in and he gives me a reasonable wad of cash. I take it and cock an eyebrow questioningly.

"In case you get hungry," Sam explains. "Also you can go get some supplies you might need, there's a minimart around the corner and a coffee shop opposite."

"You know this place well," I comment.

He shrugs, "I went out for a drink last night."

I nod and thank him before getting out of the car. I sling a backpack they gave to me earlier over my shoulder and tuck the 100 dollars into my pocket before turning back to wave them off. Dean rolls down his window and I bend over to hear what he has to say.

"Remember," Dean instructs. "We want to everything similar to these two deaths, find a pattern. It could be anything: the area, the dates, the cause of death, anything. Also, no talking to strangers, you don't know who they are or what they want with you."

"Yes, mother," I mock and he rolls his eyes with a protest on the tip of his tongue. "Alright, alright. Good luck with the scene."

"Yeah, okay," Dean nods. "We'll be here by five. If we don't come by call us and get back to the motel. Got it?"

I nod and watch them drive off. Once the sleek back of the car disappears around the corner, I walk into the cool, quiet interior of the library. The place is made out of marble and solid wooden furniture. It's nothing compared to some libraries I've read about but it is certainly the best one I've seen in my life. Yes, I don't like homework but I do like reading and I do amateur writing on my blog. Libraries fascinate me along with other arty building designs. We don't get that a lot of nice buildings back home.

I finish gawking at the stately interior design and walk over to the big counter where a pencil thin, middle aged woman is standing. I take a deep breath and smother the pathetic anxiety that comes with meeting strangers. I decide to milk the privileges of looking different from people in the area.

"Excuse me," I start, laying my accent slightly heavier than I usually do.

The lady looks up from her computer screen and smiles at me. The accent works but I also earn some stereotyped, slightly annoying, attention. She greets me back a little bit louder and slower than what she would've done with the locals.

"Good morning," She says first. "How can I help you?" Some hand gestures go along with the question. I don't speak fluently, I'm not deaf but I tolerate it.

"Yes," I nod. "I want old local newspapers."

"Of course," she says. "How far back do you want it?"

"As far back as possible," I reply.

She nods and excuses herself to the back room. I hesitantly find a table near the last computer and set my bag down on a chair. The place is empty so I decide to explore the racks and shelves while I wait till librarian comes back with my newspaper archives. The books here are old and well used. Most of them are leather bound and embossed with gold or silver letterings. They're breathtaking.

The librarian comes back and sets two boxes down on my table for me. "Thanks," I say and get right down to work. "Can I use this computer, as well?" I ask her, gesturing to the one nearest to me.

"Of course," she replies. "Why do you need all these? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

I look up from my newspaper and shake my head, "No, I just like learning about towns I visit. History is fascinating."

The librarian accepts this answer and goes back to her table with a "If you need any help" line. I focus on the tedious work before me. The research is boring stuff. I flip through every page until my fingers feel numb and I write enough notes to make a nerdy college student proud. I read through every stabbing case in the archives to make a copy of each one to hand to Sam and Dean later. The strangest thing is that many of the mysterious, unsolved cases involve one male victim stabbed twice and left for dead while trying to escape. The photos of all the men show them lying face down in similar positions as this new victim.

After a few hours, I get bored of the archives and decide to switch to the computer for a break. The computer is on stand by and I shake the mouse to bring it back to life. I go straight onto an internet browser and habitually onto my blog. My blog login page shows up so either this is indeed real or my dream world also has my blog with a sudden decline in my follower count. I whimper in despair as I lost almost 50 of my hard earned followers because of a few days' hiatus. Other than that, my blog is exactly how I left it last time. I decide to believe that this is the real world and magic exists.

I read a few more posts from others I follow and continue to search for related deaths online. I find a few of cases from the archives and a couple others. It's difficult to screen through the search findings because some of the results are merely amateur writers or crazy people looking for attention. More interesting results include shapes and sizes of different knife cuts and how to tell them apart.

Finally I see the article I need. A solemn looking, young girl looks out at me from a grey and white photo. I click the link and read the article. A maniacal smile is probably forming on my face but I don't care. I print out the article and a page full of links. My work is done for today, I can finally eat and walk about. I haven't had the chance to explore much of the US since I got here. I get a free trip here (dream or no dream) so I'm going to find out about this new world as much as I can.

I tuck all the notes and papers into my backpack and walk out of the library, thanking the librarian for the archives. The sun is bright but the air is still chilly. I slowly adjust to the new climate and make my way to the little coffee shop Sam mentioned earlier. I order a hot cup of coffee and a sandwich and sit in the corner alone, watching the pedestrians walk up and down the street. I finish my meal and find out that I have just enough time to grab some personal things from the mart before they come fetch me.

I buy some hair elastics, a hair brush and some makeup because you never know what you might need. I pay for the items and trudge back to the front steps of the library where the Winchester's sleek car is already parked waiting for me.


	5. Chapter 5

We got takeaways to eat in the motel room because Dean is feeling hungry and the sandwich didn't last as long as I thought it would. When we get in, I immediately run into the bathroom to get my hair straightened out. I run through tangles until my frizzy hair returns to its original black, sleek state. I tie my tresses with a scrunchie, leaving my shorter fringe to frame my face. Once I am happy with my cleaner appearance, I go back out and stuff my bag full of cosmetics into my duffel.

"Now that I feel more comfortable, let's talk business," I announce to the boys when they stare at me as I exit the bathroom. I reach for the sling bag and get my notes out from the leather bag. "The library didn't have all its archives because they lost some during their move, but they have enough. Throughout the past, there have been several cases of similar murder cases. All men, all stabbed twice but not on the spot."

"What did these people do to become the target of a spirit?" Sam wonders aloud.

"We know that Michael was having an affair with a married woman," Dean recounts. "A good friend of his, went to him when she and her husband hit a rough spot, fell for his charms."

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"We questioned the woman herself," Dean answers. "She admitted to it when we ask if he had any secrets being kept."

"What about the first guy? Was he having an affair, too?"

"Yeah," Dean says. "We went round the neighbourhood asking about the guy. Word has it that he, too, is involved in some scandalous thing with another married woman."

"So this ghost is hunting down men with affairs?" Sam asks incredulously.

I shrug and turn to my food which I had forgotten about. I unwrap my burger and place it carefully on my lap. The table is covered in papers again and the laptop takes up half the table space. Sam and Dean occupy the two chairs so I might as well make myself comfortable on my bed. I pop a chip in my mouth before leafing through my notes again.

"Well, I do have something here that has got to do with affairs," I say through a bite of my burger. "Not a man though. A young girl by the name of Rebecca Moore was killed brutally in her bedroom one night. She found out her mother is seeing somebody else and meddled around. Her mother's lover found out about it and sneaked into her room. He stabbed her in the kidney once and watched her crawl to the door, killing her right when she was about to reach the door."

"So Rebecca is our ghost and she comes for revenge on any guy who is having an affair," Sam guesses. "Do you know where she's buried?"

I hand him the article, and I can't help but ask, "Why do you need to know that?"

"To blaze the bones," Dean says without blinking or looking up from his reading.

"Seriously?" I probably should already know the answer.

Dean looks up at me and says, "Dead serious."

"So we will be digging in a cemetery for a rotten body?"

"Yeah," Dean nods, "And at night, too. We have to avoid getting caught."

I look at Sam for confirmation and his serious eyes say that his brother is telling the truth. I ball up the wrapper of my finished burger and carefully but dramatically place the bowl of chips aside. They are looking at me funny, and I say, "Give me a minute." I lie down on my bed and stare straight up to the ceiling. I don't talk and the room is silent so I know they are still watching my odd behavior.

"Pierce?" Sam speaks up first. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I say, waving my hand airily. "It's not like I'm not about to follow you guys to a grave at night to dig up a body of a 12 year old who was brutally murdered and may be haunting this town. Everything is dandy."

I turn to face them with a hopeless face. "Do you have any beer left?"

"Yeah, why?" Dean asks.

"Because I need to be as drunk as I can get before I go with you to burn Rebecca's bones."

So now we are standing at the grave of little Rebecca Moore whom we are about to dig out. I'm on torch duty, standing like a pole and shining the torch so Sam and Dean can see where they're digging. I feel chills down my spine, I never liked cemeteries. The nighttime darkness and fog make things much, much worse. I try to tune out the cricket sounds and owl howls, I will myself to only listen to the sound of a spade cutting dirt and the grunts the boys make as they toss the soil over.

Sam's spade hits something hollow and Dean climbs out of the six foot deep ditch they created. Sam raises his spade and strikes the hollow ground. A plank breaks and collapses into the grave. Sam wedges his spade in to get the body entirely exposed. I peep into the ditch against my better judgment and swear that I will never sleep in peace again. Inside the coffin is a curled up skeleton with strands of hair stuck on its skull, it is surrounded by shreds of some decomposed fabric which I take is Rebecca's funeral dress.

Dean comes beside me and pours salt onto the skeleton. He then proceeds to pour kerosene over the skeleton. Sam comes to my other side and Dean holds up a lit match. He nudges me and asks, "Any last words to Rebecca?"

I shove him and he chuckles before tossing the matchstick in. We stand and watch as the fire swallows up the remains. As the fire finishes its meal and starts extinguishing, Dean and Sam shovel the dug up dirt into the now empty hole. When they finish, Dean dusts his hands and pack up the things he brought along.

"Come on," Dean says. "Let's go home and get some rest. I'm exhausted."

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I walk as fast as I can while keeping my dignity and pride back to the comforts of the Impala. I reach the car ahead of Dean and Sam and curl up in the backseat. Dean sticks his head through the window nearest to me and smiles cheekily.

"There's nothing funny going on." I glare at him and he grins even wider. Sounds from the back tell me Sam has closed the secret compartment in the boot and we can go now. "Just start the damn car, Dean." I shut my eyes, taking my mind off our night's activities.


	6. Chapter 6

I wake up once again in my own world, surrounded by my soft pillows and softer blankets. Hmm, this happens when I fall asleep, no matter how light my sleep. I feel exhausted as if I didn't sleep at all. I reach for my phone and turn it on, blinking at the sudden light. I have a full night's sleep ahead and I fall back onto my bed.

I went to school again and put up with the same things as I did the day before. Today, Jessie seems to be looking at me more than usual. I catch her always hanging around me and when I look up she sneers at me. I brush off her weird behavior because it doesn't affect me in anyway. After school, I decide to hang around the library to escape my mother's nagging for a while.

I find a seat in the empty building, somewhere nice and secretive to do my homework in peace. I don't have to call my mother about my being late because I have a curfew of three hours after school to do whatever I want. Usually I don't use this given free time because I don't have friends who want to hang out after school, but today I need an escape.

I stop my writing halfway through my homework and booted up one of the computers in the library. I search for Rebecca Moore's old article to ease the curiousity that is nagging at me. The results came up true. Each and every article of what happened in Louisiana is true. So the Winchesters are not just figments of my imagination. This is really, really weird.

I type in weird things like transporting without your body into the search feed but only got questionable answers from unreliable sources. After an hour of fruitless searching, I give up and decide to go home.

On the walk home, the sky becomes grey and winds stronger than usual bluster around. I walk briskly to avoid the impending storm. I feel cold but can do nothing about it. I brave it and walk even faster home. Finally, I see my house up ahead and jog the last stretch.

When I step into the compound, the wind stops. The sky returns to its light blue state. No sign of a storm anywhere. I scowl at the odd weather. Last I remember it's not even the rainy season. The phenomenon unnerves me. I am caught surprised when I turn to see my mother standing at the door silently. She looks into the distance before looking at me strangely.

"Where have you been?" She asks.

"I was at the library," I reply. "It's not past curfew yet."

"Oh, okay," she mutters in a distant voice.

"Are you okay, mum?" I ask as I walk past her and through the door.

"Hmm?" She looks at me as if she didn't see me before. "Yeah, I'm fine. Dinner's just ready, you should go get cleaned up."

I take cautious steps up to my room, turning back to check on my mum every few seconds. Something is very wrong with her. My mother is not known for being dreamy and lost. She was always in control, hardly ever drifting off from reality like what she did just now.

I strip of my uniform and pull on my denim shorts and a grey tank top. I tie my hair back into a neater ponytail and go back downstairs. My dad is already back from work and seated at the dining table with my mother serving him his dinner.

"Hello, Dad," I greet. "How's work today?"

"The usual," he smiles and says. "How was your day?"

I shrug, "I went to the library after school today."

"And today of all days," my mother interrupts as she sets down the chicken. "Your friend just came over when you were away."

"Friend?" I ask. "'Which friend?" My parents aren't aware of my nonexistent social life.

"Jessie, I think she said her name was," Mum answers.

"She's not my friend," I mutter.

"She isn't?" My dad looks at me. "Then who is she?"

I stab my piece of chicken savagely and say, "She is my classmate and all she does is make fun of me. We're hardly on talking terms."

"Okay," my mum says a bit too cheerily. "Let's eat."

I decide that it's not just me being paranoid. My dad is also looking at my mum eat as if she grew another head. I catch his eye and he looks at me with concerned eyes. Today, everything is weird. That would be a great diary entry.

After dinner, I sit in front of the TV flipping through meaningless programs. I don't do this often because I usually take this time to do my homework. I did my homework in the library so I am free for the rest of the night. My dad sits beside me quietly while my mother does the washing up alone in the kitchen.

"Are you going to ask me help mum?" I ask, getting off the couch.

"No," my dad shakes his head. He looks at the kitchen before saying, "She can handle it herself."

"Okay." I sit back down and cross my legs on the sofa.

"Listen, I have to talk to you about something," Dad says. He sounds as well as looks tired. "Something weird is happening and I have to tell you now before it's too late."

I stare at him wordlessly, waiting for him to continue.

"You- You're not like other people," Dad starts. He peers at me through his glasses and I raise an eyebrow. He doesn't even know the beginning of it. "You have a special gift. An angel came down and gave it to you. I was there at the time, and the angel explained everything."

"An angel?" I'm surprised to hear my father say that. He's not a very religious person, and this sparks a few arguments between him and mum every now and again. "I didn't know you believed in things like that."

"I didn't," Dad says firmly. "But that night, you were about six months old and you started making sounds in the middle of the night. I went to see what was bothering you and this man was standing there. He told me he was an angel of the Lord and he showed me his wings and all. He told me that you are in grave danger, and that he imparted you a gift to help you along the challenge that would come."

"What danger?" I sat straighter at my father's grave tone. "Why would I be in danger?"

My father sighs, "There are mistakes I have made in my life. This one in particular seems to have effect on my only daughter." He smiles at me sadly. "You'll be turning sixteen soon, the angel said that you would experience something strange prior to your birthday. Have you, um, travelled to a different place in your sleep before? It's a stupid thing to ask; all these years I don't even know what to believe."

"Well, you can start off by believing the angel that you saw," I say matter-of-factly.

"You've been going to places in your sleep? When did this start?"

"Since Tuesday night," I tell him. "Does mum know about this?"

He sighs sadly and shakes his head. "No, she doesn't. The angel told me that besides you and me, anyone can be out to kill you. I was hoping that it wouldn't be true, the travelling in your sleep thing. Now that it is, there's nothing we can do, can we?"

"So what's so special about me that other people want me so much?"

"You have a key," Dad tells me. "It's inside you," he says pointing to my head. "It's the key to summon everything evil that don't even belong in hell to earth. You probably don't know what it is yourself and I would like to keep it that way. So you don't have to lie if you ever get caught and tortured."

"You said that it is because of a mistake you made," I prod. "What did you do?"

"It sounded a lot like a gift when I heard about it, but I was wrong." I wait for him to continue. "There was this set of instructions to get the Key. I followed them to rid the chances of the Key ending up in bad hands, to destroy the instructions to the key. It is said that this key, once retrieved, would reside within the person who completed the instructions or his offspring. Many believe that it is a physical thing but I found out through that angel that it is not. It is a line of words in a language long extinct, a spell if you like. I wish I never did that. Let the creatures of hell get to it. Anything so you don't have to suffer."

"What is done is done," I reassure him. "I don't mind doing anything at all if it's for a good cause. So how does my gift help me in anyway?"

"It sends you to another place far away from here. The angel told me that he would do his best to send you to someone that can help you and keep you safe if anything bad happens to you here."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you have two chances at life," Dad explains. "If you get… killed here, your soul would go someplace else and become a solid human being again. The angel said that he can only do this once. The power he had to use to give you this one extra life has affected heaven so much, anymore would bring heaven down crashing and burning. The travelling in your sleep is a sign that the gift is taking effect and crazy stunts like that attract evil things."

I take in everything slowly. "If I have something they want, they won't kill me right?"

"With the things they can do to you, I'd rather you die than suffer that," he says. "Not all these creatures are sane beings. If you frustrate them enough, they will kill you without a second thought. Others believe the death of the key holder will reveal to them the key. So they will be out to kill you. The angel told me that when you die, the switching between places stop and will lose whatever is out there to get you. From there, find this person and he will keep you safe."

"Who's tha-?" My question is cut by a loud crash at the door.

"They're here," Dad mutters. He pushes me to the back of the house where the door leading to the basement is.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," a familiar voice rings out. It's Jessie.

Dad continues to push me towards the basement door. We get in and he closes the door quietly and locks it. I stand on one step and watch Dad look for something on the wall. A secret door slides open on the top step and Dad gestures for me to get in. I go in and he closes the door.

"What's going on?" I ask, on the verge of panicking. "What's Jessie doing outside?"

"That's not Jessie anymore," Dad says while running around turning on lights in the room. The room is full of scary knives and guns. Dad goes and grabs some guns before turning to me. "There's something possessing her. He reaches for my necklace, "This will be enough to stop them from possessing you." He holds me by my shoulders and looks me in the eye. "Listen to me," he says, "I want you to get out of this place as fast as you can through that window. Just run as fast and as far as you can." He starts for the door and says, "Whatever you hear, don't go into the house."

"Where are you going?" I ask confused and close to tears. "Don't go out there," I plead.

"I have to," he says. "I have to buy you enough time to get away."

"But where am I supposed to go?" I demand.

"Go into the forest, it's safer in there than out here," he says.

"No, please don't go," I beg. A sharp shriek pierces the air. Mum.

Dad comes over and hugs me tight. In a soft whisper, he says, "I'm sorry, I have to go. Take care, baby girl. I love you." With a swift kiss on my head, he tells me, "Look for John Winchester." Then he's gone.

Winchester. The name rings a bell and binds me to the spot. I was with Sam and Dean Winchester. I am roused by a gunshot sound and get to the window. I lift it and climb out as quickly as I can. I watch through a lit window, my father against a large group of attackers. Another gunshot and I run straight in the direction of the forest. As I run, I think about the last four words dad had whispered to me. The angel did a pretty good job of getting me close to the Winchesters. I just have to find out who is John in relation to Sam and Dean.

I get into the forest and continue straight for I had no idea where to go. I hear a river trickling somewhere on my right and I head toward the area. I run and run, not caring for the thorns poking me and tearing my skin apart. The forest is too quiet, no crickets or frogs are singing but I am too scared to think deeper about the signs. I hear another gunshot and this time it is followed by a sharp pain in my kidney. I stop and look down. There is blood spreading through my t-shirt where the pain is. I turn around and face whoever it is that shot me.

It is Mum. Standing there with her hair whipping crazily around, she doesn't look like Mum at all. She points the gun at me again. A flash of light and another wave of pain send me taking a few steps back. After the pain resides, I go numb and fall to my knees. I don't look at my wound this time but look straight at my mother.

Her eyes go all black before she says, "Give me the key." Her voice is cold, and I know that's not mum inside anymore. I can't help the tears that pour out.

"I don't have it," I croak. Another gunshot and I fight to stay conscious.

"Give me the key," she demands.

I shake my head wordlessly. Before she could fire another shot, someone stabs her from behind and she screams, a yellow glow coming from where she is stabbed. When she falls, she reveals her killer. It's Dad. With tears in his eyes and bruises everywhere, he stays where he is, holding mum's body but looking at me.

"Goodbye, my girl," he says in a croaky voice. "Stay safe."

And my world fades to black.


	7. Chapter 7

I open my eyes only to see a dark ceiling above me, the sound of rain surrounding me and the hum of an engine underneath. I realize I'm in the backseat of the Impala and Dean or Sam is driving it. The memories come flooding back to me and it is overwhelming. Tears stream before I could even control them as I remember dying and Dad's last words to me.

A big ugly sob escapes me and draws attention from the front row. Sam's head pops up above me and I move to sit up from my former sleeping position.

"Why are you crying?" He asks.

I look at him in the eyes and whisper hoarsely, "My family's dead."

Dean pulls the car aside and turns around, "What?"

"I don't know, I died," I repeat. Between sobs I manage out barely audible words. "Mum was possessed and she killed me. Dad killed her and I died." I return to sobbing uncontrollably again. "I don't know if Dad's even alive now," I mumble.

The boys stay silent for a while and watch as I calm down enough to start breathing properly. When the hacking sobs die down, I curl my knees to my chest and lean against the cold glass window pane of the door.

"Maybe we should pull over at the next motel to rest," Sam suggests quietly to Dean. Dean agrees and starts down the road again.

We stop at the next motel we see and check in. I slowly crawled out of the car and swayed on my feet when I set foot on solid ground. Dead. I died. Mum's dead. Dad's all alone. My knees give way but Sam manages to catch me before I hit the wet tar road. He guides me through the door and sets me down on one bed.

I look up at him and ask, "Where are we?"

"Somewhere in the middle of Louisiana, we thought of heading to Tennessee after the job," he answers. "We packed up our stuff and went off. We didn't wake you 'cause you were sleeping."

"What time is it?"

Sam checks his watch. "It's ten to five in the morning. We haven't made much progress yet."

I hear the sound of the door closing and another wave of tears comes pouring down again. I hide my face behind my hands, a little shy to be crying before two men I hardly know. I feel a blanket being draped around me and I tug the corners tighter around me with one hand. The little show of comfort shakes me even more and I let out involuntary sobs. Forcing myself to calm down, I tell myself to not think about what had just happened. More ugly sobs fall out and I gasp for air trying to hold them in.

My lungs slow down after a while and I take deep breaths to steady myself. I keep my head down, not wanting to look up and see concerned faces and puppy dog eyes at the moment. The boys let me breathe for a few moments more before curiosity takes over and they start asking questions.

"You okay?" Dean's rough voice breaks the silence in the room.

I nod, feeling the tear threatening to fall again. I never liked it when people show me concern when I cry. It only makes me want to cry more.

"Do you want to tell us what happened?" Sam's gentle, soft voice is comforting.

"My house was attacked," I croaked out, my voice hoarse from crying. "My dad told me to run and I did. I ran into the forest but my mum shot me. No," I shake my head. "It wasn't my mother. Something was inside her, possessing her. My father said that it's no longer her and he stabbed her in the back. The thing screamed and her body fell to the ground." I draw in a long shaky breath. "Dad," I whisper, "he's all alone with those evil things chasing him." I finally look up with silent tears steadily streaming down my cheeks, "And there's nothing I can do to help him now." I stare up at the two standing in front of me and say, "I have to help him."

"You got shot, you said," Sam prods gingerly. "Are you…"

"Dead?" I cut short his question. "I think so."

"So were you a ghost or something this entire time?" Dean asks curiously.

I shake my head. "My father told me everything about why I turned up here that night and why I'm here now." They wait for more. "I have something that many people wish to take hold of. A key of some sort but I don't know what it is. I was just born with this certain knowledge inside me that my father told me not to dig out. He wants the knowledge to just die with me and be done with it."

"Why do people want that 'key'?" Dean asks.

"It is said to summon all things evil to earth," I tell them gravely. My voice has returned to something closer to its original state.

"And all this has to do with your consciousness switching between places?"

"Father said an angel came and gave me a second chance at life," I explain what my dad told me just an hour ago. "When I'm unconscious in my original body, I get transported here. Another way of saying it is that when I die, I come here. I wish I weren't dead," I whisper in a weak voice. "I have to help my dad. I can't leave him there alone."

Sam and Dean sit down opposite me on the next bed. Sam looks at me and says, "We know how you feel. Our dad was in danger many times but we couldn't help him. All we could do was sit and wait for his news. You can't do anything anymore, and you've done enough."

"Where's your dad?" I ask.

"Dead," Dean says simply.

"Oh," I look away from both of them. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Dean sighs. "Let's talk about you first. Why were you taken to us?"

"My dad said the angel would try his best to take me as close to John Winchester as he could." I see them stiffen and exchange looks. "He was your father, wasn't he?" I don't wait for an answer before apologizing again. "I'm sorry, Dad said he could help, but now everybody's dead," I mutter.

"Hey, summary of our life in ten words right there," Dean comments unsmilingly.

"We'll take care of you," Sam assures me. "We promise."

"Did your dad say what it is our dad was supposed to help you with?"

I shake my head again, "Dad only said that he would keep me safe."

"I guess that's what we'll do until we find out what to do with the key," Dean states. Looking me in the eye, he says, "We'll take you in."

I once again feel tears well up in my eyes, but this time not of grief and painful memories. They are tears of gratitude. Up until now, I hadn't realized that if it wasn't for these two, I would be homeless and lost in a new country with all sorts of creatures chasing me.

"Looks like you'll be our actual adopted sister now," Dean says.


	8. Author's End Note

**If you've been following me from the start, you'll realise that I changed the title of this story. "Carry On My Wayward Child" not only sounds so cliche and predictable, it also didn't really fit in with the rest of the series. So I changed it.**

**Okay, so I was a little bit bored when I decided to add this into the end of Faraway. I'm also doing this to explain the story so far in case my lousy, inexperienced writing misguides you. This story (as you can see from the bracketed title) is Part ONE of THREE in a wee series called Another World. This story was born one day when I was getting some big brother feels from the Winchesters and I started imagining what it would be like to be part of their family. It took me months to finish this because in the middle of writing, I had to take my trials for a major exam ahead (think OWLs from Harry Potter, that's basically it). So yeah, this trilogy is the love child of inspiration and the stubborn denial to study.**

**If you read this enough times, you'll realise that I only ever gave away three American states and not even a town name. This is because I do not live in America, I have not been to America and the closest thing to America I have here is Starbucks. I didn't want the story to seem unprofessional and stupid so I avoid ever mentioning a location. **

**I didn't change much in this installment so there isn't much 'behind the scenes' stories to tell. Maybe at the back of the third installment, I'll dish out a little dirt on what Pierce is like because I don't want to spoil anything for you right now. I'll tell you one thing so you can grasp the time concept a little bit better. The story starts in early October, 2013. Pierce is transported over to Sam and Dean's place, and the adventure begins.**

**Before Pierce died, she has had conflicting thoughts about whether all of it was real or just a recurring dream. Recurring dreams rarely happen, by the way, and when it does it's normally exactly the same thing each time. So Pierce decides to play along because it is an escape from her real life. The little adventures, even when it can be quite gory, was exciting to her. That's why she follow the boys around even after she found out she can just wake up and find herself back home. **

**Yes, Pierce suffers from anxiety from the bullying she gets but she tries not to let it show. She finds comfort in the friendship bracelet she made and the necklace she had since she was a baby. I got this inspiration from the Samulet and how Dean just doesn't act the same way without it. Also the friendship bracelet is the one I've been wearing since I started writing this story. It actually serves the same purpose to me as it does to Pierce. **

**Pierce's mother was possessed for quite sometime already. She did not hear Pierce's father telling her about the Summoning Key and the demon was only alerted when the Jessie demon paid the house a visit. Pierce's father suspected that his wife is possessed and that's why he didn't wan't to talk in front of her. He stabbed her later with am iron knife dipped in salt water to disable her before exorcising the demon out. He obviously knew the consequences but did it anyway because he didn't want to see his wife kill their daughter, even though it wasn't actually her.**

**Fun fact: I was going to stop the story at chapter six and continue to the next installment but I needed to tie up some loose ends. **

**That's all I have for now, I hope you liked this and please do read the rest of the trilogy. Also leave a review, you can be as critical as you like because I really want to learn and no way am I going to let my parents or English teacher read my fanfictions. **

**Cheers, J.C.**


End file.
